


More Than Skin Deep

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [99]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Definitely not AoS, Jossed, Kissing, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, SHIELD Husbands, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint begins to recover from his injuries. Phil helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Writing on the Body

Clint drifted up through a haze of drug-induced sleep and painkillers. He drifted slowly, because he knew where he was, and he knew that he was safe. He was in SHIELD Medical, and Phil was sitting at his bedside. Not just sitting, but doing... something. Something that Clint could feel on his arm. 

Clint rolled his head to the side, hating that it lolled and that he couldn't control his own movements properly. Still, he was alive and awake and moving, and that seemed like a pretty good start. Phil was still doing something to his arm, and Clint tried to look to see what it was. What he saw instead was one of those metal frames with rods sticking out of it and into his skin, around his right arm between his shoulder and his elbow. He didn't panic. The fact that the metal frame was there at all meant that the doctors had set and pinned the bones in his arm. He knew that, because he'd broken one of his legs badly enough to need pins and one of these frame things, a few years back. There was a patchwork of stitches in the skin over his bicep, but that didn't bother him. What were a few more scars?

Clint swallowed, and flexed his jaw a couple of times before trying to speak. 

"What'cha doing Phil?" he asked, and it came out not too badly mangled. It also didn't hurt his throat very much to talk, which was a good sign, it meant he hadn't been on a breathing tube for very long. He tried to wiggle his toes and was very relieved to feel them twitch. 

Phil smiled up at him,

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Not bad. I'm on the good drugs, right?"

"Yes. You've been unconscious for a couple of days, and drifting in and out all morning. Do you want me to give you the highlights?"

"Please. And be straight with me, Phil. I know it was pretty bad. I know I..." Clint trailed off. He was about to say 'almost died,' but something made him stop. He had the feeling there'd been more to it than that.

"Your heart stopped for about forty seconds. You lost a lot of blood from the wounds to your stomach. When they brought you in you practically didn't have a blood pressure."

"Phil." 

"Your arm isn't too bad. The bones should heal fine."

"Did I lose any muscle?" 

"Just a little. They saved everything they could, Clint. I made sure they knew how important it was, but that thing's teeth messed up your bicep pretty bad."

Clint nodded. That was OK, the trapezius muscles did all the heavy lifting when it came to drawing his bow, the bicep was just along for the ride. 

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Except," Phil sighed, and picked up a... stick. "Can you feel that?" 

"No. What? What's wrong, Phil?"

"There might be some nerve damage. I touched your skin below the wound, on the inside of your elbow, that's what you didn't feel."

"Oh." Clint leaned back, trying to process the information. His bicep was pretty messed up and he might have some nerve damage that meant he couldn't feel the skin on part of his arm. That sounded... not good, but he had an arm, he could wiggle all his fingers and toes, and Phil didn't look like he was holding anything else back.

"So, how long?"

"You know the doctors, they hate to make predictions, but I managed to get Doctor Sanchez to say 'maybe three or four months'."

"That's... that's not too bad."

"It'll be fine, Clint. We'll get through it together."

"Yeah, yeah I know. I've been hurt before. It'll be OK. So, what were you doing when I woke up - you were doing something to my arm."

"Um..." Phil's ears actually went a little pink. "Well, I did some research, about the nerve damage part."

"Of course you did, Phil," Clint said it fondly, and Phil relaxed.

"And, well, there's been some good results at Bethesda with using a variety of sensations on the affected area as soon as possible after the injury to stimulate the nerve endings, so, ah, I've been doing that." Phil held up the implements that had been lying on the bed next to Clint's arm: a chopstick, a Chinese calligraphy brush, a ballpoint pen, and a fork. Clint's eyebrows went up. 

"Show me," he said.

Phil put everything except the calligraphy brush back down. His ears went a little pink again as he started to draw patterns, swirls, lines, and letters and numbers on the skin of Clint's arm, starting below his elbow and working his way up to where the pins from the metal frame went into his upper arm. 

"I can feel some of it, but not all. And some of it feels weird, like hot or cold?" Clint said, as Phil put the brush down.

"That's good. That means the nerves are there, and working, they're just a little confused. That should clear up. And the idea... the idea behind the drawing with different implements is to start re-training the nerves as soon as possible to deal with different sensations..." 

"You've been doing this for two days, while I was unconscious."

"Yes."

"So that my nerves would heal faster."

"The doctors said it couldn't hurt to try," Phil said.

"Bring your face over here so I can kiss you, Phil."

Phil smiled and stood up. He leaned over the bed, being careful not to jostle the frame around Clint's arm. Clint reached up with his good arm, trailing an IV, and put it on the back of Phil's neck to pull him in close. The kiss was soft and sweet and gentle, and Phil laid a hand on Clint's cheek and then pressed their foreheads together.

"I was so scared, Clint. I was so afraid that you were dying, that I was losing you." There were tears in Phil's eyes and he squeezed them shut. Clint rubbed the back of his husband's neck, trying to soothe and reassure. He knew that fear.

"I know. I know, Phil. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." As he said it, Clint had a flash, like remembering an image from a dream, or some sort of strange déja-vu. He'd tell Phil about it later, maybe. 

"So, ah... I take it we won?" Clint asked, once Phil had pulled himself back together. Phil laughed.

"Yes, yes, we won. Thor showed up and summoned a storm that blew the swarm of pterodactyl-things into the Atlantic."

"Good. Everyone else OK?"

"Yes, they're fine. The team kind of went into overdrive when I found you and called 'Agent down' on the comms - I saw the footage yesterday, it's pretty impressive. They're all waiting to come in and see you, as soon as you're up for it."

"Give me a few more minutes, will you Phil? I just... I just want to spend a little time with you, first."

"Of course. As long as you want, Clint. As long as you want." Phil sat down and picked up the calligraphy brush again and started to doodle on Clint's skin with it. 

"Thank you, for that," Clint said, nodding towards the brush in Phil's hand.

"I love you," was Phil's simple reply. 

That said it all, really.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
